A HANDSOME OFFER

Here's that picture of a cute Vera I wanted to post last time.

10 of 100

I sauntered into the office/guestroom thinking to knuckle down to do some focussed writing, but opted for updating my OS. My friend Michael in Oakland is a bachelor for the weekend, so he had time to wander around our little worlds of interest for more than an hour. But the pain in the knee was beginning to increase and I don't want to stay up too late so we rung off, far from exhausting our conversational powers.

This healing business is tough. My pain med use is maybe too low. I think I took 440mg of Alleve all day. Tomorrow, I will be more attentive and not try to go without. The deep depression aided by oxycodone just freaked me out and then again, I might be trying to be a tough guy. 

Healing is boring. I have not been attentive enough to my physical therapy, either. I move around a fair amount and I do a few reps of this and that. I don't think it is enough. Perhaps I am in some kind of denial, although I look at the proof in the form of a ropy scar at least twice a day when I apply the scar treatment that the sweeties known as Kaye and Bruce sent to me.

I'm still trying to do a few chores every day. I have set myself a higher bar in that I am hosting another dinner party in two weeks. Debee did enough housework so that even a bit more effort pays off. Wish I had some money to get someone in to help do some spring cleaning. It's fun to have a lot of cool stuff, but then you have to dust it!

I'm staying true to my French studies, branching out from Duolingo which can get boring, to an old-fashioned workbook. It's good to practice skills in another way. I found a French dictionary which is now parked bedside so that I can pick up one of the books Lydia gave me. I find looking up words on the internet far more cumbersome and less efficient. When you look up thing in a French dictionary, you get the advantage of just looking at other French words and perhaps picking up something else along the way.

My cats thank my recent and upcoming houseguests for their insistence on decent sleeping accommodations. Nina and McCoy particularly like stretching out on their own beds. I have no companions at the moment, but I imagine Bebop and Vera will find their way before the night is out. This is better as my chances for finding a comfortable place to sleep are greatly improved sans felines. (Reading my mind and always needing to be contrary, Vera just came in. At least she hasn't tried to climb onto my chest for purring and drooling, but that is always a possibility.)

Last night, Janet and I went to the Friday Night Dinner at the Mediterranean restaurant with the rest of the crew. I have only been once since I had surgery. There was a celebration for Janet's birthday (tomorrow). Every one was so nice and Janet so clearly enjoyed and connected with people, I might have cried. They are so accommodating, helping her get appetizers, keeping her water filled, and pretty much responding to all the other redemandquests she makes. One couple invited us all over and served her cake and coffee. I nearly tear up as I write this. We haven't known them long, yet they are fond enough of her to extend extra hospitality.  I need to remember the kindnesses that exist out there.

When my next-door neighbor Sally noticed that I wasn't around and there was a different car in the driveway, she checked in to make sure all was well. I told her I had just had surgery, etc. Forty-five minutes later, the doorbell rang and there stood Sally and her daughter Sydney. In their arms were flowers, chocolates, and a bottle of wine. Kindness. And on this side, gratitude.

(After a brief stop on my chest, Vera is spread across my feet and working on her grooming.)

A couple of people responded to the issue of downsizing. My friend Kathleen Hulser responded with 

HOUSEHOLD CIVILIZATION                                                             

Implements of our lives

the toothbrush that

teaches gums a lesson.

The snow shovel that

lives the bite of icy crust.

The wandering car key,

a nomad hiding in odd spaces.

The music stand holding

scores on a slant

or more often

coats, hats, and shoulder bags.

Each object a key

unlocking small scale facets of life

idiosyncratic and universal

the material culture

of household civilization.

— Kathleen Hulser, 12/28/22

HOME IS OUR MUSEUM

We are stuff, memory haunts things we save as though feeling can endow objects with immortality. Home is a museum: material culture of our lives collected and preserved.

The Museum of T-shirts, faded and spotted, folded in drawers. Just part of the ludicrously numerous shirts waiting to make a jailbreak from the bureau. Antique pens from defunct banks, tire shop, pet boutiques, and eager solar salesmen. 

In the Pantry Gallery souvenirs from foreign delegations line up for state dinners. Rare spices from the East, the urn of Za’ater, the scoops of yellow and red lentils in their Sahadi packaging testify to menus concocted for the lactose intolerant, the fatophobe, the halal and the kosher, the vegan and the paleo.  Ancient grains from amaranth to farro jostle the bale jars of quinoa and pearl barley. Tapenade, caponata, bruschetta and pesto rub shoulders with balsamic vinegar and Extra-Virgin Olive Oil in seductive bottles. 

The Gallery of Apparitions where numinous remains lurk in forgotten corners. A dog collar with a rabies tag still attached features hair caught in the weave. Along with dog show trophies from obedience trials of the 1960s, the prize-winning Louis Douze poses in a charcoal portrait. A modern meso-American face jug complements the ashes of its owner still in a tin box urn stashed in a New Yorker magazine tote. A vivid self-portrait with pixie cut red hair is mom’s only known painting.

The Coffee Cup Collection: tall, short, bulging, insulated in purple, blue brushed chrome, and red trim. Boot Hill: zipped, laced, lined  – with tread to squelch mud and grip ice. The garbology tombs. Waste bins, old pretzel cans, gift popcorn barrels, wicker hampers, Shaker baskets, pastel resin bathroom chuck-it away, all bowing to the kitchen’s imperial shine, an aluminum skyscraper with step pedal. In every room a handsome offer to discard everything.

— Kathleen Hulser, 1/8/23

HOME IS OUR WEATHER

Sheltered cove or eye of the hurricane

Home is our weather.

Contrary winds

blowing pictures askew,

snuffing candles

before meekly yielding

to the calming blanket

of prevailing affection.

Love currents tame waves from below.

Depth takes white caps by the hand

and sets them

on the forgiving couch of togetherness.

Home is our weather.

— Kathleen Hulser, 12/11/22